


Tea Party

by CantSpeakFae



Series: BtVS: One Shots [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Genderbent!Drusilla, Hallucinations, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantSpeakFae/pseuds/CantSpeakFae
Summary: Edith’s hands were clean and white, just like her pretty frock. There was no red to damage the day and the cups would not shatter even if the king demanded it.





	Tea Party

Dru traced his fingertips around the fragile rim of the perfect little cup, his dark eyes never leaving the face of it. This was the best of mother’s finery and it was never brought from its clean little cupboard, save for the rare occasion that they had company that was worthy of it. Dru, though he tried so hard not to be, was often envious of those few that incurred his mother’s generosity. He wondered what made them so worthy that they would be presented with something so beautiful. And they were beautiful, the cups, with little tulips painted around the middle like blushing skin, pulled tightly over bone. Dru might have traced his fingertip over the flowers, next, if it hadn’t been for the way he saw his mother looking at him. No words were said to him, but he could feel the disapproval radiating off of her. His cheeks flushed with shame, and Dru dropped his hand into his lap.

Within his cup, the tea was growing cold.

Worried about wasting, Dru grabbed the cup by its delicate handle and lifted it to his lips, relishing the way the rim clinked against his teeth. It made such a lovely sound that he wanted to do it again. But, he didn’t have to look up to know how dreadfully upset mummy would be if he did that. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, and Dru must always be perfect in the eyes of God. Perfect like Edith, his golden-haired sister. In another world, Dru might have been Edith’s father and he would have been delighted to have such a polite and respectable daughter. Edith’s hands were clean and white, just like her pretty frock. There was no red to damage the day and the cups would not shatter even if the king demanded it.

“Dru?” Mummy asked, turning her gaze to the boy. Her eyes were like ice and it was so often that the ebony haired man thought about what it would be like to walk across them. Would it hold his weight, or would he fall through? Fear of an icy bath made him push away the plate of cakes.

That was the only thing that made mother smile, anymore. Good children with delicate appetites.

“Yes, mummy?” Dru asked, circling his fingers around the rim of his cup again. He imagined that worms would soon be doing backstrokes within it. Oh, how envious the pixies would be.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

Oh, yes. Words must be exchanged for it to be a proper party. Though no one had greeted him, any stutter in the conversation would make the skies hiss. There could never be a misstep in the dance. A beautiful angel with the roar of a lion had taught him that.

“A nice man lost his arm for our tea, mummy,” Dru said, speaking so brightly that even the lovely Edith was impressed. She wanted to tug the ribbon away from her eyes, but Dru rested his hand on her lap to make her stay still. It would do her no good to see sin. “No purity at our table. Lost limbs mixed like paint and wrapped around our tea like a blanket. If Daddy was here, there would be suffering instead of cakes...but I know you do your best.”

Silence.

Terrible, terrible silence.

It shakes the tale, and cracks the plates. The cakes crumble, and Edith screams. The ribbon falls from her blank, unseeing eyes to wrap tightly around her pale throat. The screaming was silenced but Dru dropped his head into his hands and wept all the same. The world was falling apart. Poor Edith. Poor Mummy. Poor Dru.

“Dru…”

He lifted his head at his mummy’s whisper, looking over at her with tearful eyes. Mummy was shaking her had, but did not speak again before a crack appeared down the center of her beautiful face and she crumbled away. Ashes to ashes. Dust to Dru, who was left alone. His house fell away, leaving nothing but darkness and a china cup in his hand. He looked over at Miss Edith, and half-heartedly swatted at her hand as she tried to steal a cake. Then he pushed himself away from the table and picked Edith up from her seat. Mummy- the dead woman who was slumped over the table, a gaping wound left in her throat where Dru had cut into her- would be left behind, to broken to sit sweetly with the others at home. She could keep all of her finery, though, save for one. Dru would always take one cup to add to his collection, so that there would always be tea for the worms to swim in.

Such a lovely thought dried his tears, and he held Miss Edith closer to his chest as he danced through the pools of blood leading away from the lovely kitchen. His little cup was stained red on the inside with the blood of the children, broken dollies scattered across the floor, and he gave them an affectionate smile as he passed. They were so sweet to offer him something so tasty; raised very well by a dear mummy. He was right not to part them, such a loving family should burn together. If he could, he’d burn with his mummy and sisters.

_(His Angel would never allow it, but even the stars liked to dream, didn’t they?)_

Miss Edith laughed at his daring, and though Dru would have to reprimand her...he too could not help but smile as he stepped through the door and into the night. The stars welcomed his return, and he smiled wider. When he was full and warm, everything was right in the world. And, when it next shook, maybe it’d break him to bits like it had his mummy.

Such a nice thought.


End file.
